


How To Have A (Practically) Perfect Love Story With Your Wife

by Rozarka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Carrows Reign at Hogwarts, Community: wizard_love, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gryffindor, Hogwarts Era, Hot married sex, Humor, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Teenage Drama, Valentine's Day, Young Lactating Mother Having a Sex Life, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:21:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozarka/pseuds/Rozarka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of friendship and sex, love and war, kissing with tongue, and giggles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Have A (Practically) Perfect Love Story With Your Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Written for silvernatasha for the 2010 [Wizard_Love](http://wizard_love.livejournal.com) fest. Love and thanks to Anise, Seedee and Muridae for beta.

 

Lavender, 1991.

There were lights everywhere; there were _stars_ in the ceiling. The tables were near overflowing with scrumptious food, and she had been sorted into Gryffindor! That would show snooty cousin Petrus who'd said Lav was bound to become a Hufflepuff. Being at Hogwarts at last was so exciting, in both a fantastic and a nervous way, that Lavender could hardly sit still on the bench by the long, loud Gryffindor table. An Irish boy who'd also been sorted earlier sat on her left side, chattering with someone on his other side, and on her right was an older girl who was being sweet to her. 

"I'm Alicia, Alicia Spinnet. Your name was something flowery, wasn't it? Lavender?"

"Yes," Lavender confirmed proudly. "Lavender Patricia Verity Brown."

"That's a very nice name," said the girl, as Lavender knew it was, but it was still lovely to hear it.

"Lavender, that's like a colour, aye?" asked a cheerful voice at her other side, and she turned her head to meet the blue gaze of the Irish boy. "It's like, er, green? Favourite colour o' mine."

She would have rolled her eyes at his mistake, except his brogue lilted like happy music, and his face was so friendly with freckles strewn across his nose. Lavender had always enjoyed when boys looked at her with a smile in their eyes. So she only giggled. "No, silly, it's blue," she said, before thinking over it and conceding. "Well, I suppose the leaves are green. So you're not all wrong."

"Exactly, that was my meaning," he said, with a sage nod and a wink at her, and Lavender had already decided she liked him when he reached out a hand. "Seamus Finnigan, from county Cork. Pleasure to meet ye, Lavender. Hey, would you pass me the chocolate pudding?"

"Pleasure to meet you, too," she said, shaking his hand and beaming at him as she passed him the bowl. With the ice so easily broken, they soon were talking eagerly, joining in with others at the table as well. Later on, Lavender was deep in conversation with Parvati, an Indian girl who'd been with her twin before the sorting and had looked a bit lost where she sat, opposite Seamus. Seamus, meanwhile, was talking diagonally with the boy opposite Lavender (Dean; Lavender had shared a compartment with him on the train). Parvati eventually suggested that she and Seamus trade places, and after the shuffle, that was all that Lavender and Seamus talked with each other that night. 

It had definitely been a good start.

*

Seamus, 2001.

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Seamus was pulling down herbs from Lav's neatly arranged shelf of spices, opening the lids and sniffing at them, interrupted by occasional sneezing fits. The recipe said to 'season to taste' — he really wished now that he'd read it all the way through before starting, so that he'd known there were potential pitfalls.

Still, Seamus did have taste; this wasn't to be disputed. He'd ended up with the woman he was cooking this meal for, after all, and she was the most gorgeous girl in the world. Well, one among two of them. So surely, seasoning some lamb chops to taste ought to be well within his powers.

The label on the jar of thyme said something about lamb. They all did. It seemed lamb was particularly seasonable. Seamus hummed to himself, shaking the jars over the skillet by turns, while the chops sizzled and browned and gave off mouth-watering smells. The grid fell off the jar of thyme while he was shaking it and he cursed under his breath, attempting to spoon up the excess, and hurrying to draw the skillet aside as the chops turned perhaps a shade too dark around the edges.

He wiped his brow with his lower arm, eyeing his work so far with satisfaction. The oven was already heated, and he scooped the chops over in a pot, sprinkled breadcrumbs and goat's cheese over them to make the crust, and levitated the whole thing into the oven on a rack.

"Holy Mother of God, I've got a knack for this shit," he muttered happily to himself, shaking his head as he straightened up and met the gaze of his gurgling little angel in her high chair by the table. "Ain't that so, buttercup?"

The doorbell interrupted Niamh's enthusiastic reply. She whipped around in her seat and gesticulated towards the door with a chubby little fist. "Da-da-da!" she demanded.

"Aye, you and Da' will go and open the door for uncle Dean," Seamus said, scooping her up on his arm and blowing a raspberry on her fat cheek as he walked through the small flat.

"Right on time," Seamus said as he swung the door open. "Granted, it doesn't take long for you to haul your disgustingly well-rested arse down two flights of stairs, but I still want you to know that your effort at punctuality has been noted."

Dean just rolled his eyes at Niamh. "Your old man is in a mood, isn't he? By the way, nice apron, mate."

"A very good mood," Seamus confirmed with a grin, giving a twirl on the spot for Dean in Lav's frilly, flowery apron. "Are ye ready for this, then?"

"I am," Dean assured him. "The question is, are you? And Lav?"

"Oh, I am. And Lav will come around." Seamus nodded, convinced that he was right. With him being busy training as an apprentice Hit Wizard, Lavender spent every waking moment with Niamh, and he knew, just from watching how tired she was at nights, that she needed a break. "It's Valentine's Day; girls appreciate stuff like that. Last year, Lav was clutching the toilet bowl puking all day, so something like this wasn't really an option. And Niamh is six months old, and she's used to both you and Parvati being around."

"Parvati's coming over as soon as she's sent Lavender home," Dean said. "But I can handle things for now."

"Hang on, I'll just get her stuff." Seamus handed a kicking, cooing baby over to his best mate, who received her with both arms in a confident uncle's hold. A minute later, he was back with a bag that he held open and let Dean look inside.

"Here's her pyjamas. And two bottles. Lav expressed the milk so that I can take her out on my own if I want," Seamus explained, pointing. "You just heat the bottle up in a bowl of hot water, and test a drop on the back of your hand. It's supposed to be about the same temperature as your skin."

"You talk about this with disturbing ease," Dean noted. "So I'll have liquid on my hand that's been inside your wife's breast. Got it. And all the nappies? Hell, how many do you expect me to need?" There was a wary note in his voice. "I thought you said she usually gets the hardcore stuff out of the way in the early afternoon?"

"Oh, usually, aye," Seamus said. "But ye know girls, they need to pee constantly. Anyhow, just go by the smell."

"Speaking of that." Dean's brow furrowed. "What's that smell coming from the kitchen? Is something burning?"

"Oh, shite. _Shite._ Here—" Seamus pushed the bag at Dean and shooed him out of the door whilst making a smoochy face at Niamh that made her laugh hysterically. "Everything will be fine. Come down with her only in case of emergency, got it?"

"Got it," Dean affirmed, just as the door shut in his face.

By the time Lavender came home and called out a greeting from the hall, Seamus had got the rice (over-)cooked, the salad almost finished and the chops out of the oven with the cheese bubbling. Hardly frazzled in the least, Seamus took a deep breath, surveyed the kitchen and concluded that he was on schedule. More or less. The counter and the table looked like a war zone, but it wasn't his intention that Lav set her foot inside the kitchen tonight at all.

He pulled the apron over his head, flung it over the nearest chair, and pointed an ironing charm down his shirtfront to deal with the apron creases. He ran his hand through his hair and hurried out of the kitchen, intercepting Lavender just as she was about to come in.

With a grin, he slid the door shut behind him and caught her cool face in his hands for a soft kiss. "'lo, love. Had a good day out on the town with Parvati?"

"Yes, until she suddenly started hinting that it was time for me to go home," Lavender said with a frown. She was shrugging off her coat, her dark hair tousled and her cheeks pink from the windy February night. "I told her that you had plenty of milk for Niamh in the fridge, but she wouldn't let up. I actually started wondering — Shay, what _is_ that smell? Have you been _cooking_?"

"Um." Seamus gave his wife his most charming smile, winding an arm about her waist and steering her toward the bedroom door. "Put on something nice for me, love, will ye?"

"What, this isn't nice?" she said, digging her heels in. "What's going on?"

"Of course it's nice; you always look gorgeous, but I mean something _dressed-up_ nice. And don't ask anymore; it's a surprise," Seamus said, starting to sweat a bit. He had a feeling that the other shoe was about to drop.

"Where is Niamh? Is she sleeping? I'd better feed her."

"I fed her half an hour ago. She's fine, sweetheart. She's with Dean."

"What do you mean, she's with Dean?" Lav was starting to look a tad annoyed, not to say upset, and Seamus took her hands, looking at her imploringly. 

"She's with _my_ best mate and _your_ best mate who both adore her to pieces," he said. "They've promised to look after her and coddle her and spoil her for the rest of the night, due to said surprise that I've got for you. They're only two floors away if they should need us, and everything will be all right, love." She'd been watching him with wide eyes as he said all of that, but now she lowered her head stubbornly and Seamus squeezed her hands, leaning in to dash a kiss over the tip of her nose. "We need a little time to ourselves," he said. "Admit it, it would be great?"

After a few moments' silence — a few moments that seemed rather long as Seamus was holding his breath — she looked up at him with a small smile. "They'll come with her if there's anything at all?" she asked.

"Of course!" He grinned and wrapped his arms around her, tugging her more tightly to him and deeming the moment right to open the door to the bedroom. On the nightstand stood a vase with twenty-three long-stemmed, deep red roses — one for each of her years and two for the years they'd been married. 

"Happy Valentine's day, babe." He squeezed his arm around her waist, smiling as she turned in his embrace and wound her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Shay, they're beautiful!" she whispered. "And it's so sweet of you — and of Dean and Parvati — but mostly of you — and I'm sorry that I am a bit—" She kissed him back gently as he caught her lips, finally pulling back to draw a breath. "We'll get her back tonight, yeah?"

Seamus smiled, stroking her back. He'd had a fair idea that it would be hard on Lav to come home and expect to see Niamh and then not be able to for hours. But not as hard as it would have been to get Lav to let the baby go if she'd been present. "No worries, love. I promise we will. That was the deal, that they couldn't keep her for good, much as they'd like to. Wouldn't have let her out of my sight otherwise."

*

Lavender, 1994.

Her dress robes were a gorgeous, lavender-pink velvet, and unlike Pansy Parkinson, Lavender looked really good in pink. She basked in the admiration from the boys she danced with, sparing long looks of outrage and sympathy for Parvati and Padma who seemed stuck with the most ungallant oafs in the room. And to think how excited Parvati had been to enter on the arm of one of the champions — even if it was the shortest, most familiar one who really, at the end of the day, was just Harry.

Fortunately, Seamus was a much better dancer than Harry. He twirled her around the floor among the ice sculptures and decorations and brought her more Butterbeer whenever she got thirsty, until her head was spinning both from the dance and the drinks. At the last, slow dance, she put her head on his shoulder with a deep, happy sigh. It had been a great idea to ask Seamus, someone who not only was a good friend that she felt relaxed with, but who really knew how to have _fun_. And who had said yes without needing a moment's thought.

"Look at 'em," Seamus said, and she felt his brief nod and looked up. "McGonagall would have Fred's bollocks hung out to dry if she saw that."

Lavender followed his gaze. One of the Weasley twins was dancing with Angelina, if dancing was the right word for it. She giggled and felt her cheeks go warm as she watched them sway and cling together, hands sliding everywhere, their mouths fused together.

"McGonagall isn't around," she said matter-of-factly and looked at him. Seamus was licking his lips and his cheeks were as red as hers felt. "Have you ever, Shay? Kissed someone like... you know... _that_?"

"Like... Oh, you mean with—? Yeah, sure, sure," he said with an easy grin even through the blush. "Loads of times." She could tell he was bluffing, and that he knew that she knew he was bluffing, and it made her grin back at him.

"It's nice," she mused, looking directly at him, and he went even redder. Lavender was bluffing a bit, too. She'd only kissed with tongue (or at all) once, with Cormac McLaggen, who had surprised her when she'd just expected a peck and it had been kind of slimy and icky. But she felt sure that there had to be more to it than that.

Answering the bold challenge in her eyes, Seamus leaned in and shoved his whole warm, thick tongue inside her mouth. Lavender's eyes flew wide open as she gagged. "Not... the whole thing at once," she sputtered, grabbing hold of the sleeves of his robes when he drew back in alarm. Leaning in, now, she brushed her lips over his (which were pouting) and licked out softly with the tip of her tongue. 

" _Oh_ ," said Seamus, in a tone of such clarified understanding that she burst out giggling again. She felt warm all over and belatedly a tad shy and drew back. It was Shay, after all, her good mate, and she wasn't sure she wanted to keep kissing on him. She'd had a crush on Cedric Diggory for weeks.

But it had definitely been a whole lot better than with Cormac McLaggen. Gagging, and all.

*

Seamus, 2001.

Seamus was lighting the candles on the dining table, and hurried into the hall when he heard the bedroom door open. She'd put up her hair in dark falling ringlets and changed into high heels and his favourite dress, a deep blue number that clung to her curves. She'd not been able to use it for over a year. As she did a coy little twirl for him now, Seamus could see how much she'd regained of her slender figure. More curvy on top and the dress sat a bit tighter over belly and hips, but it only made her even more lovely.

"You're a right stunner, Lavender Finnigan," he said, catching her with an arm around her waist and dipping her daringly. "Remind me again what ye're doing with a slob like me?"

"I have a feeling that you're about to remind _me_ ," she said, but her gaze was sweet and amused as he eased her upright again.

"I reckon I'm going to try." He offered her his arm, and walked her gallantly to the table where he drew back a chair for her and kissed her hand before letting go. He'd really done his best. Tablecloth, flowers, nice napkins, their best dinnerware, and wine glasses filled with sparkling fruit juice instead of champagne, since Lav was adamant on not touching alcohol as long as she was breast-feeding Niamh. The salad and the rice were already on the table, and Seamus took the lid off the rice, manfully holding back a yelp as steam burned his fingers. "Just a moment, love, I'll bring in the main course."

The lamb chops weren't too badly burned and the goat cheese crust was really good. The rice was a bit goopy, but Lavender didn't mention that at all, smiling at him after the first bite and raising her glass to his. "To my husband's newly discovered cooking talents. This is very nice, Shay."

"I'm a diamond in the rough, I am," Seamus bragged.

"There's some truth to that." She giggled in that wicked little way that always made his knees go weak. "I can't believe you planned it and did it all by yourself."

"The planning could have been better," he admitted, scrupulously honest if nothing else. "I burned the sauce. So that's why there's no... sauce."

"It's good without it," she reassured him. "The salad dressing and the melted cheese makes it juicy."

Seamus was chuffed, smiling at her and digging into mouthfuls of food by turns. She did seem to really like the food — to enjoy herself. Her eyes had a sparkle and her cheeks glowed when he took her hand across the table.

"This is all right, then?" he asked. "Not too much of a surprise?"

She considered him, carefully chewing and swallowing a bite. "No," she said at last, "not too much. This is really nice. I'd expected flowers today, and maybe a box of chocolates. Not...," she grinned, "...the works."

"Oh, you really _will_ be getting the works," he vowed with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows, catching himself and biting his lip when she lowered her eyelids. "If you're up for it," he amended, bracing himself for disappointment. And if she wasn't, he might give an inward sigh and resign himself to another round of wanking in the shower, but he wouldn't say a word about it. Niamh's birth and the whole pregnancy had been difficult because of that monster Greyback's attack on Lav during the Battle. She'd not been turned werewolf, but been left with a sensitivity to the phases of the moon that messed with her own cycles and fertility. With that, and the sleep deprivation that had followed Niamh's arrival for months, Seamus was prepared to give his wife whatever time she needed to get back into the swing of things.

No matter if it sometimes turned his balls a shade that could be aptly named Lavender blue.

But she surprised him, laughed and met his gaze. "Are you saying you don't think I'm up for it? Those are fighting words, Seamus Finnigan."

"Oh, it's not fight I want, love. I just don't want you to think that all I want—"

"I know." She seemed uncharacteristically uncertain as she smiled at him, perhaps picking up on his own tone of voice. "And I know that... it's not been happening as often as it used to. I suppose we kind of got out of the habit when Niamh was tiny. When all we could think of was to grab some sleep whenever we could."

"Aye," Seamus said, squeezing her hand. "And I didn't mind that at all. But I miss makin' love with you when we're both rested, and not expecting interruptions, and can leave the lights on."

"I've missed it too," she said gently. "I've been so preoccupied with Niamh and, well, so tired that I don't think I noticed that I missed it. But I do. Miss you, that way."

It was all Seamus could do to not get up and sweep her into his arms and carry her to bed then and there. But he had more plans and ultimately greater ambitions than that, so he let go of her hand, only sending her the occasional wicked gaze while they finished their dinner and chatted about everything and nothing.

After dessert — scoops of Lavender's favourite ice cream from Fortescue's drizzled with chocolate sauce; Seamus might be ambitious but he also knew when simplicity was in fact the best solution — he got up and put on a song on the music player and reached out a hand to her. "May I have this dance?"

She rose gracefully from the chair, laid her fingertips into his upturned palm and laughed as he immediately twirled her and drew her close to his chest. "Smooth," she murmured, looking amused.

His mouth twitched. "Ye know I'm not very smooth, darlin'. But I do know how to have fun."

"Yes," she said softly, smiling up into his face with half-lidded eyes as they swayed together. "I've always known that. Remember the Yule Ball?"

"Of course. A man isn't likely to forget his first kiss with _tongue_ ," Seamus said with satisfaction.

"Oh, and here I always believed that you'd done it loads of times before," she teased him.

"No," he said. "You did not."

She giggled. "No, I didn't."

He adored it when she giggled like that. Reckless, girlish, flirty, a sound he'd associated with her right from the start. "Want to try it again, then? See how my technique has improved?"

Primly, she raised her face to him with her mouth pursed to a teasing pucker.

"Minx," he murmured, and cupped the back of her head in his hand, nipping softly at her lower lip with his teeth before sliding his tongue in between her gently parting lips. His heartbeat was picking up to a nice, excited pace and he moulded her carefully to his frame as he touched the tip of his tongue to hers, teasing for a moment before he ventured further inside. She still tasted cool and sweet from chocolate ice cream, and he groaned and slanted his mouth more firmly to hers, loving the little noise of satisfaction she made in her throat.

The doorbell rang.

"What the _fuck_?" Seamus complained, but Lav's expression of alarm quickly assembled his frustration into something more constructive. No way that this was going to interrupt the course of the proceedings unless it was truly an emergency. "I'll deal with it," he said, cupping her face in his hands and pleading her with his eyes to let him. He had a hunch that if Niamh saw her mum, she'd start screaming, and Lavender's breasts would start spurting before anyone present had the time to say 'mother-child-attachment'. "If it's something important I'll get you, I swear."

"This had better be good," he grumbled as he tore the door open. But it was impossible not to smile at Niamh who broke into a huge smile and gurgles of 'Da-da-da' at the sight of him. She was holding one of Dean's paintbrushes in her hand. "'lo, rosebud."

"Sorry, mate." Dean was sheepish. "It's just that Parvati went out to get us take-away, and meanwhile this, er, rosebud, has turned on the fertiliser. So to speak."

Yes, the aroma in the stairwell was ripe in a rather familiar way. Seamus tickled Niamh teasingly in her tummy. "Good one, sweetheart. You make your Da' proud." He narrowed his eyes when he turned to Dean, however. "And you're telling me this why? And Parvati bein' out has got what to do with it exactly?"

Dean tried on the puppy dog eyes. "Well, you did more or less promise that she'd have got this out of the way, this time of night. Couldn't you take five minutes to give a helping hand?"

"I indicated a statistical probability, mate," Seamus said. "My daughter isn't made of clockwork and she doesn't crap on command. You should really be able to handle this. And I'll tell you what, if Parvati were here you'd still have to do it, because you're a bloke and blokes have more to prove in the nappy-changin' department. Moreover, you'd better haul your arse and my sensitive-skinned daughter upstairs and deal with it before her bum gets sore. And don't forget the bloody talcum powder."

"It was worth a try," Dean said with a weak grin. He sighed and turned around. "Things are going well, I take it."

Seamus gave his best mate a thumbs up and shut the door. He turned to see Lav hovering by the living-room door. Her knuckles were clenched on the door frame and he could only guess at what it had cost her to stay there, out of Niamh's sight.

"Did she seem fine?" she asked.

"Right as rain. Dean was the one who looked a tad pale. You all right, love?" he asked.

She nodded, and after a second, a low chuckle broke her concerned expression and she walked into his arms. "Yeah, I think I am. And Shay — you were brilliant."

*

Lavender, 1997.

It was early May, a gorgeous day with sunshine dappling young leaves, and the castle swifts, newly returned for summer, were chasing over the sky in dizzy swoops. They were probably courting, there, far up in the sky. Lavender hated them almost as much as she hated Ron Weasley. No, loved. No, hated—

Her eyes were sore and her throat felt thick with a lump that wouldn't ever seem to go away. She'd taken off her outer robe to sit on in a place along the lake-shore that was hidden by thick branches. Even Parvati was losing patience with her. She'd tried for weeks to hint, gently and then more forcefully, that Lavender would be better off without Ron, and she'd held her and hugged her through a week of crying and questions, but she seemed to think it was high time to move on.

Lavender, in the grip of the first real heartache of her seventeen years, found moving on a complicated concept.

The footsteps behind her made her turn around sharply, for once unhappy about company. She hadn't expected to see Seamus standing there, hovering at the edge of the small clearing. "Saw you go down to the lake," he said, coming closer and sitting down beside her when she didn't say anything. His normally brash smile was careful, the familiar Irish lilt of his voice wrapping her up in softness. "I've got in some practice, listenin' to Dean lately, so if you could use a shoulder — knee — hand — well, any part ye like really—"

"Oh, Shay." Her face crumpled and she turned and burrowed her face against the broad, offered shoulder, her own shaking. "Everyone thinks I'm an idiot. I saw him just now, he was grinning like his stupid face would split — and Hermione, her too — all of them, laughing at me."

His arm went around her, and if he was alarmed by her tears it didn't show in his gentle touch. But then, he could hardly have expected anything else, coming after her. "Aw, they probably weren't — they're just foolin' around, those three, having their own thing going, they always have—"

"But I l-love him," she wept out. "How could he just — how can he just — not _care_ that it hurts?"

His arm squeezed her close to his side and his jaw rubbed slowly against her hair. "Oh Lav, darlin', you shouldn't let it get to ye like that. It'll pass, I reckon. Me mam, she always says that — that all things come to pass. They come, and they pass, and then there are new things that come. It's the order of the world, she says."

"But I don't want them to pass," she said, sniffling against his shoulder and wanting almost to stamp her foot at the depressing advice of Shay's mum. "I want them to stay!"

"Aye," he said with a resigned sigh and his mouth quirked up on one side. "Well, I'm not budgin'. If that helps."

Seamus's voice had been a bit funny, Lavender would think later (much later) but for now all that she noticed was how solid he was against her own forlorn, balled-up body, how very un-budging, and that strangely, inexplicably, it helped.

*

Seamus, 2001.

"So," Lavender said, her eyes darkening with a promise as she fiddled with the top button of his shirt. "Where were we?"

"I think," Seamus murmured, capturing her mouth for another kiss, "right about here."

She kissed him back with enthusiasm, and he was growing hard, desire spiking in him as she made slow, tantalising work of his buttons. She eased the shirt over his shoulders, down to his elbows, but he wasn't prepared to let go of her long enough to slide it off. It just hung there, frustratingly restricting his movements as he let his hands wander, mapping her curves, the silk of her dress sliding under his hands. Lavender might be familiar to him now, but the familiarity had only made her more exciting. He knew which places drew out which responses, and he was prepared to use his knowledge to shameless advantage.

Her slim hand slid down and squeezed his cock through his trousers, and he jerked, cursing and chuckling when she giggled. Of course, she knew him just as well, so the advantage might be an illusion on his part. He groaned as she stroked him. All right, it probably was. But two could play the same game, and when he slid his hands up to cup and squeeze her breasts, thumbs stroking over her nipples, Lavender whimpered and squirmed against him, her breath coming fast and staccato into his mouth.

Oh holy fuck, he wanted her so much. Her nipples had grown hard to his touch right at once, and Seamus felt like a randy, reckless eighteen again, palming Lavender's breasts for the first time and coming in his trousers after fifteen glorious seconds as she wriggled up against his cock. Not that he planned to come in his trousers this time. Oh, no. He pinched her nipples gently, walking her up against the bedroom door and rubbing against her caressing hand, determined to last a good while yet.

"Want to have you," he muttered. "Want to make you shake and scream, love."

"Yeah? Well, I want that, too, but first I want this bloody shirt off you," she said. "For a start."

He grinned and shrugged it off his elbows quickly, letting the vest follow, and then scooped her up with his arms under her arse, lifting her and sliding her dress up as she wrapped her slim legs around his hips. His hands discovered that she was wearing sheer, high stockings and a suspender belt with lacy straps. It was almost his undoing, to know she'd put on these seductive, flimsy garments _before_ she joined him for the dinner, that she'd not merely been swayed by his seduction but had wanted him all along. He groaned, stroking her thigh where it met the edge of the silk stocking which wasn't half as soft as her skin. The bedroom door glided open with Lavender's fingers wrapped around the handle, and they tumbled inside, laughing, falling onto the large bed which took up most of the space that wasn't reserved for Niamh's little cot in the corner.

She was lying half on top of him with one thigh straddling his midriff, her hair falling in curls around her flushed, smiling face. Seamus raised both hands to loosen the knot at her nape so that long, dark locks fell freely around them both. It made his breath catch.

"Beauty," he whispered. "How is it that you get prettier every damn day? Don't you ever consider what it may do to this poor heart o' mine?"

She rubbed her thigh over his erection, a temptress's smile on her lips. "It's not your heart I'm worried about, love."

"Wicked." He groaned, his hips bucking up to the friction while his hands slid down her back, to her arse, rucking up the dress further and growling in frustration as it stopped.

"Zipper," she said breathlessly. She kicked off her shoes and then sat up on her knees with her back to him, stroking her hair over her shoulder as she threw him a glance. Seamus's mouth fell open at the gorgeous sway of her back into her arse, the slender waist flaring into lovely hips, and he sat up and kneeled behind her, his hands skimming and rubbing her buttocks as he pressed his erection up against her, breathing hard against the sweet dip of her neck. 

A sigh escaped her, and she laid her head back on his shoulder, turning restlessly. Her thighs pressed against the inside of his own as she tried to spread hers further. "God, Shay. I want... your hands on me, your mouth—"

"Fuck, yes," he said, making quick work of the zipper and the hook of her bra and easing both the bra and the dress up over her head. He coaxed her down on the bedcovers, and she went willingly, spreading her legs open for him with a low moan. Seamus leaned down to kiss her.

"Grip the headboard for me, darlin'," he whispered.

She smirked and, holding his gaze, raised her arms back over her head in a languid, teasing motion that lifted her breasts. Seamus leaned down to lick one nipple, helplessly distracted, before reaching for his wand and raising it to her wrists. With a murmured incantation, silk ribbons flew out of the tip and secured her hands to the wrought iron of the headboard. 

"Glad you haven't forgotten old tricks," she quipped breathlessly.

"I haven't forgotten _anything_ ," he vowed, grinning back at her. He moved down and licked at her hard, swollen nipples again, suckling gently at tender flesh. He'd been surprised the first time that drops of sweet liquid trickled out on his tongue, but it didn't faze him now. It tasted sweet, like her, like everything he loved about her and their child and their life together, and the sounds and the rocking motions it teased out of her were just as sweet in a very familiar and intoxicating way.

She moaned, raising her hips to him, begging, and he moved down, his cock giving a hard throb in his pants as he slipped her knickers down over her stockings, leaving her in only the stockings and suspenders, spread wet and open for him. He lay down flat on his stomach, legs sprawling outside the mattress, and dipped his nose into her dark curls. The smell of her made him grip her thighs firmly with a groan, opening her wider before he moved down and licked with his tongue, tasting her, musky and salty-sweet.

The caress wrenched a sob out of her. "God, Shay. Don't tease," she said, and he gave her thighs another, reassuring squeeze and went to work on her in earnest, sliding his tongue deep inside her and swallowing down the slick wet that kept forming on her flesh, stroking into her with his tongue before sliding it out and over her clit in firm circles. His heart was pounding and he was grinding into the mattress, and reached down to give his cock a painful squeeze to hold off his own climax. Damn it, he was going to come inside her if it killed him. It just might.

Taking his cue from her gasping litany of pleas and curses, he sucked her clit into his mouth and drew on it in firm, rapid pulls, giving her exactly what she needed — what he knew she needed. She thrashed against her bindings, so fucking gorgeous, and came in long waves rocking against him while he eased up on the rhythm, eased her down gently, and reached up under his pillow, pulling out something out of her sight.

He had another surprise for her. Exactly where he got the willpower to go with the plan rather than take out his cock and slide himself inside her, he didn't know. His cock was _aching_ , he was so hard, but he'd been so excited about this idea and he thought she'd like it. He'd be proud of himself if he'd had the presence of mind for self-congratulation.

The vibrator warmed and started up with a flick of his wand, and his lips parted in anticipation as he eased the tip against her opening, teasing her with it, moaning and licking at her clit again as she cried out and pushed up to meet the pressure, the gently vibrating friction.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the sex toy ricocheted back at him, the base smacking into his chest hard enough to bruise. He tried to ease it inside again, but the resistance was considerable, like from opposing poles of magnets, and he raised his head and stared at the uncooperative object in consternation.

"Shay," Lavender demanded in a dangerous tone that he might have found quite sexy if he hadn't been so crestfallen. "What the hell _is_ that?"

"It's... I don't know, it's a vibrator, I wanted to surprise you — damn thing doesn't work," Seamus said, still staring at the thing. 

_"I do work,"_ said a rather annoyed, smooth male voice. _"I'm not geared towards servicing a vagina."_

"What?" exploded Seamus and Lavender as one.

_"Do you see this thing halfway up my length, genius? I don't get near anything that hasn't got a prostate I can stimu—"_

The pronouncement was cut short as Seamus hurled the vibrator at the wall and followed it with a hex that blew it up in sizzling sparks and smoke.

"Well, I reckon now I know why the bloke at the counter winked at me that way," Seamus said into the silence that followed. He took a deep breath, leaning over her again. "Damn, love, I'm sorry. _I'm_ still functioning, though, and—"

"Shay," Lavender said, her voice shaking. "Shut up and release my hands."

He looked at her up the length of her body. The whole of it was, in fact, shaking. With giggles.

"Are you going to hit me?" he asked.

"No, you big gorgeous oaf, I'm going to shag you rotten," she said forcefully.

"Oh, in that case—" With a flick of his wand, he untied her, looking at her in mixed apprehension and anticipation as she sat up and flipped him. He didn't really put up a fight.

"My big, gorgeous cock, ye said?" he asked with a grin, feeling a bit light-headed as she straddled him and unzipped his trousers. Now that he was looking at things from this angle, he wasn't really too sorry that the vibrator idea hadn't worked out.

*

Lavender, 1998.

He'd taken some beatings from the Carrows before, but he'd never looked remotely this bad. His whole face was a mess of crusting blood and swollen tissue, and his eyes were bloodshot slits. 

"Shay, Shay," Lavender whispered, holding his hand on the floor in the corner of the Room of Requirement. Ernie was tending to Seamus's injuries with his wand and various herbs, supplies secretly offered by Professor Sprout. Lavender could barely stand to watch it as Seamus moaned and flinched. But she stayed, clinging as hard to his fingers as he clung to hers. Because that's what you did for a friend, and she knew right then with a pang of realisation just how much his friendship meant to her. "You promised me you wouldn't get caught, you big oaf."

"O' we', I go' away." There was a squeeze of his hand and then an indistinct addition. "A sexy oav, aye?"

"No," she said, "not a sexy oaf. You look completely awful."

"Ye're go'zh's. A'ways th' wos' go'zhs gu' i'th' schoo'."

"What... don't try to speak, Shay. Please." He seemed to have lost half the alphabet, his lips cracked and his tongue bitten through during the torture.

Ernie glanced up at her, blushing bright red. "Always the most gorgeous girl in the school," he translated, and shrugged when she stared at him, "Us Scots and the Irish, we get each other better."

"I don't generally have a problem with his accent, either," Lavender snapped, to hide that she was blushing as hard as he did.

"Way I kiss ye whe' wy wou' eals? With'ong?"

She stared helplessly at Ernie, who shrugged again. "May I kiss ye when my mouth heals?" he suggested. Seamus gave an impatient grunt, and Ernie sighed, averting his eyes from her. "With, er... tongue?"

A strange moan came from Seamus. Lavender glanced down at him again, and realised he was laughing at poor Ernie and cringing at the pain it caused his face. Unwillingly, she smiled, too. "Don't," she begged him. "You're just terrible, Seamus Finnigan."

"A' sexy?"

"Yes," she admitted softly, raising his hand to her mouth and pressing her lips to his knuckles, her chest feeling tight with protectiveness and affection. "And you may kiss me when your big mouth heals. With tongue. If you'll just give it a rest right now."

*

Seamus, 2001.

His trousers and boxers were tugged down his legs and over his bare feet, and then slender fingers wrapped around his cock and squeezed. Seamus arched up, the muscles in his neck and his stomach straining, and whimpered. "Ohfuckohgodohyesnoloveyou'vegotto—"

"I think I need a translator," Lav said. "I can get Ernie Macmillan again if you—"

"Don't torment me." Seamus raised his hands to her breasts and palmed them, stroking her nipples as she leaned down to kiss him, her wetness sliding over his thigh. "I'll say please if you want. You know I have no shame."

"Oh, I do know that." She bit her lip, scooting up higher on his hips, bracing with a hand on his chest as she positioned the head of his cock between those slick, soft folds. She pressed down, circling, and Seamus's eyes rolled back in his head.

" _Fuck..._ " His voice was hoarse and strained and he fought so hard to lie still, to not just grab her waist and ram himself up inside her. She was gloriously wet and warm, wrapping around his prick like the wet cling of silk, and he wanted her all over him, _now_.

But she didn't tease long, and Seamus groaned in mixed relief and triumph as she lowered herself onto him firmly, taking him into the squeezing heat with a moaned-out curse of her own. "Oh fuck, oh god, Shay. That feels so good."

"I know." He massaged her breasts, pinching the nipples gently, rubbing the leaking moisture over them, and sighed as she gasped at the added stimulation, his eyes falling half-shut when she started to move.

She loved this, the fucking, his cock inside her; she always had, and he could tell it from her face and those little noises and gasps and half-uttered words and curses as she slid up and down on his shaft, letting him almost all the way out before squeezing and sliding back down. Her face was flushed rosy, and he could see her pink tongue between her parted lips, so goddamn sexy. Unable to control himself any longer, he started pushing his hips up to meet her, moaning at the friction of the more forceful thrusts, and she answered by sliding a hand down her stomach, fingers splaying over her curls and then finding her clit, circling it as she pressed down around his cock again and again.

Seamus's gaze was helplessly caught on the sight of it, of her touching herself under those glistening curls while his cock slid wetly in and out between her lips in an increasingly urgent rhythm, steady and slick like a well-oiled machine. His balls were pulling up tight and his cock throbbed and thickened inside her and he'd no idea how he was still holding on, gasping and straining, his muscles clenching tight against the compulsion of his orgasm.

"Pinch my nipples again," she said, part plea and part command, her breath coming in hard gasps. "Rub them hard, oh god, _yes_ , please, don't stop!" Her voice rose to a whimpering cry and he could feel her grow so damn tight around him, her thighs and arms shaking, her fingers moving in a fast blur between her legs. She jerked on top of him and he felt the fluttering pulses contracting on his prick, and her hoarse, abandoned moans set his own orgasm off. He groaned in relief as he rutted up and came in long spurts inside her, his hands falling to grip her hard by the hips, finally no more reason to hold back.

She stretched out on top of him, panting and sighing, cuddly and sated, and he gave another groan, blissed-out from head to toe and every bit in between.

"Nice," she said.

"Not bad," he agreed with a lazy grin. His softening prick was drenched with her juices and his come, his palms were wet with the milk, and they were both rather sweaty as well. They were one big sticky mess. It was fucking glorious.

She rolled off him after a bit, and he reached for his wand, cleaning the worst off them both. "Happy Valentine's day," he murmured against her lips as he drew her close to him, with the smugness of a husband who knew that he'd got everything right. Well, practically everything.

"Mmm," she said, her fingers teasing through his hair at the nape of his neck. Her lips were smiling against his. "Happy Valentine's day, yourself."

"Oh yes. Very happy." He stroked her back, and in the silence they heard faintly the fretful squeals of a baby, two floors up. They both stiffened the moment they recognised the sound.

He was instantly worried that she'd feel guilty, but she just rolled over on her back and smiled at him softly. "Will you go get her?"

"Of course." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'll go get my _other_ favourite girl. Won't be a minute."

He tugged on a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and jogged barefoot upstairs, grinning back at Dean when he took in his thoroughly sated expression.

"Well, I guess it was worth it if it was that good for you," Dean said dryly. "Even the dirty nappy. But you owe me, mate."

Behind him, Parvati rolled her eyes at them both.

Seamus crept into bed next to Lavender again, gently laying Niamh down between them, and she instantly curled in against Lav's breasts, her little mouth opening and her head butting and searching as she smelled the milk.

"There, there," Lavender cooed as she coaxed her into place, and Seamus turned on his side towards them, smiling, his arm sliding over Lav's waist to embrace them both.

And this, this was right, it was perfect. No 'practically' about it. It was the one thing Seamus knew he'd done completely right in his life. He yawned, and Lavender giggled, her hand softly stroking the down on Niamh's head. "Put out the light," she murmured. "Time to sleep for us all, don't you think?" Speaking to Niamh now, low as endearments. "Especially your exhausted, hard-working daddy."

"I love you," Seamus said, his hand caressing her hair like she caressed Niamh's. "Love you both."

"We know," she whispered, and met his gaze, her own eyes glazed over in that little trance of bliss that seemed to come when Niamh suckled strongly and the milk flowed. "We both love you, too."

*

Lavender, 1998.

Two weeks seemed a very short buffer of time between a serious strike against your life and stepping outside to start living it again.

Lavender sat in the visitor's chair by her hospital window, her gaze idling over Muggle rooftops, chimneys, clouds. She was discharged from St Mungo's as of this morning, and while one part of her — the stir crazy, cabin-fevered part — was glad, there was another little part, one she hated to acknowledge, that was terrified.

Of gazes. Of questions. Of ways her life might have changed that she hadn't yet discovered. The first full moon, a week ago, had been tearful, moody, fraught with an assault of scents and flashes of temper and desire she strove to control. The Healers said it was likely to get easier. Ron's older brother, too, had assured her of this when he'd dropped by unexpectedly to have a chat with her, a couple of days before that night.

She discovered that her fingers had lifted to touch the fashionable scarf around her neck, and lowered them just as she heard the door open and turned to see Seamus in the doorway.

His face still had some fading bruises and marks from the torture he'd suffered three weeks before, but there was nothing any longer stopping that brash, friendly grin, and she smiled back at him.

"Hi, Shay. You're lucky you caught me, I'll be leaving in a few minutes. Just waiting for Mum to come and get me."

"No luck about it," he said, closing the door and walking over to the bed. He sat down, bouncing beside her packed bag. "I asked your Mam if she'd mind if I picked you up and followed you home, and she thought it was nice."

"Oh, I bet." Lavender felt an unexpected heat rise in her cheeks. "You'll be giving her ideas."

He shrugged, looking straight into her eyes. "Ye don't mind, do ye?"

"Don't be daft." She relaxed and took a deep breath, getting up from the chair. "I suppose I'm... ready." Her jacket hung on a peg next to the mirror by the door, and she went to get it, lingering and turning to her reflection on the wall. She wasn't friends with that mirror, hadn't had time to be, and resented the compulsion that drew her gaze to it every time she passed.

Lavender had always looked in mirrors; she'd always liked what she saw. Now she felt a dispassionate distance to the young woman with the scars scoring the side of her neck, her jaw, her round cheek. You're alive, she told herself. You're not a werewolf. You were lucky. Lucky. Her eyes looked back at her blankly, as though she'd said nothing relevant.

Her hand rested on her wand, her stomach churning with sudden uncertainty. She'd thought she'd made up her mind, but a simple spell and a glamour would hide the worst of it, the scars reaching past her jaw. She'd already used it a few times. For trips down into the reception and up to the cafeteria.

"You're gorgeous, you know."

She smiled wryly and dipped her head to hide the sudden burn of tears. "Yeah — right."

"You are." Seamus got up from the bed with another bounce, yet he approached her slowly. She knew that gentleness so well; it might not be what anyone noticed first in him, but it lay there nonetheless behind all the cheeky humour and the hot-headed opinions. He took her jacket from the peg and held it for her as she shrugged it on in front of the mirror. "The most gorgeous girl in school. Or out of it."

"Stop it, Shay. I... I'm all right with it. I'll get used to it. I'm so glad to be alive. Really," she said, swinging to face him. "I'm not going to be that silly girl. The one everyone expects me to be."

"Oh, Lav." He had his arms around her in an instant, a heartbeat, and he was pulling her close, pressing his face to her hair. It was as though he was breathing her in. "Anyone who expects that, they're idiots, then. They don't know you at all." He drew back to brush his thumb along the scars on her cheek, careful not to touch the still sensitive marks. "I hardly notice them any longer, you know? And only because they didn't use to be there. In a bit more time, I reckon I won't see them at all." 

He said it with such an offhand certainty, it didn't even occur to her to question him. She raised her gaze to him, feeling braver than a moment ago. "I made you a promise," she said.

His lips quirked up and his blue eyes crinkled, and his hand still rested along her jaw. "Aye, my mouth is healed now. With tongue, then?"

She raised her eyebrows. She felt terribly weak in the knees with the way he was looking at her, but at the same time, it made her feel _strong_. "Do your worst."

He slanted his head, and she held her breath, and there was a moment's diffidence, something tentative about the way their lips brushed together, chaste and soft. Then she felt Seamus smile against her mouth. And she smiled too.

And then, it wasn't chaste any longer.

She was tousled and flushed and out of breath when he drew back. Seamus's hair was mussed up by her hands, and his eyes darkened with an excited heat that she wanted to learn _everything_ about.

"You were right," he said, "it's nice," and she burst out giggling.

Grinning, Seamus raised his wand and summoned her bag, catching it nonchalantly with one hand. Lavender took his free hand and felt it squeeze hers warmly.

She didn't look back as she opened the door and stepped with him outside.

 

-end-


End file.
